Due Course
by CTMfan-13
Summary: "Thank your father for his kind letters, I shall reply to them in due course."


"It's two sugars, right?" Patrick called through the kitchen hatch as he gazed at the unfamiliar woman seated on the sofa. They'd known one another for almost a decade, but today it was as though they were starting fresh.

"Yes, thank you." She responded quietly, smiling at the fact that he knew how she took her tea.

Patrick set up the tea tray and brought it through to the living room. Handing her a cup, he sat down beside her, close enough to touch but not too close as to invade her personal space.

"I, um, I put some biscuits out. Only lemon puffs, I'm afraid Timothy has cleaned us out of any other options."

 _He sounds nervous_ , she thought to herself. Almost as nervous as she had been this morning, picking up the phone to call him from the sanatorium. Her nerves started to calm at this revelation, grateful that she wasn't in this unfamiliar situation alone.

"At least he left you some. Living with Sister Monica Joan, you're lucky if you even see a crumb." She smiled at him as he stared at her. "Lemon puffs are my favorite, actually."

"Please, help yourself." He picked up the dish and offered it to her, watching as she daintily picked up a biscuit and placed it on her saucer.

"Thank you, Doctor Turner."

"Patrick." He replied immediately. "Please, call me Patrick."

She looked down at her teacup and smiled slowly to herself, delighting in the knowledge of his first name. "Thank you, Patrick."

They sat in silence for a few moments before Patrick finally spoke.

"I can't believe we're actually doing this."

Shelagh felt her heart drop. Had she misunderstood him? All those letters. Out on the road earlier that afternoon. Seeing her facial expression, he quickly tried to explain himself.

"I just mean, I can't believe that you're sitting here. In my living room. Drinking tea and calling me by my first name. I feel like I should be pinching myself constantly to make sure this isn't some wonderful dream that I'm going to wake up from."

"If it is, I'm afraid we're having the same one." She reached over and touched his hand where he had placed it on his knee and gave him a quick squeeze. "See? You're still here."

He glanced sideways at her. "That wasn't a pinch." He teased.

"Well," she started, blushing a bit. "I don't think it's nice to pinch someone you care about."

They stared at one another, trying to desperately read between the lines of what the other was saying. He squeezed her hand back as he responded.

"No, I don't suppose it is."

He kept his hand on hers, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles constantly, afraid to break the contact with her that he had been craving for months.

"Shelagh..."he breathed, staring at their interlaced fingers. It's not until he speaks that he realizes he has no idea what to say next.

"I know." She responds as he makes eye contact with her, her free hand placing her teacup onto the table before covering their interlocked ones. "I don't quite know what to say either."

"I-I thought I'd lost you. All this time...and after I'd written all those letters with no response. I-"

"I'm sorry."

"No. Don't be. Don't be sorry, Shelagh. If I knew this was the outcome, I would have waited forever."

She felt his hand tighten on hers as she blushed, still not used to the emotions running rampant within her.

"Well, I certainly hope it wouldn't have taken me that long."

Patrick unlaced their fingers, bringing her left hand out in front of him and turning it to look at the barely perceptible scar on her palm.

"I was reckless that day. I don't know what came over me..."

Shelagh stared at him, finding it hard to breathe. He was holding her hand the same way as he had that day in the parish hall kitchen, the feeling of deja vu was uncanny.

"Can I have a do-over?"

Blinking at him, she licked her lips before finally finding her voice. "A do-over?"

"Yes... It's what Timothy says every time I beat him at chess."

A do-over. Did that mean he wanted to go back to before? For the second time that afternoon, she doubted her choice. Had she come to the wrong conclusion? Let her heart lead her instead of her head?

"If you'd like a do-over..." she whispered, fearing what would happen next.

Patrick lifted her hand, caressing her wrist exactly as he had done three months prior, then leaned his head down and kissed her palm again. Only this time, Shelagh didn't move. She left her hand in his, watching as he kissed her scar, then lifted his head and met her gaze again. He kept eye contact with her as his eyes glanced quickly down to her lips and back, coming closer as he did so. He froze momentarily, as though silently asking permission until he felt her lean towards him, lightly touching her lips to his.

The kiss was chaste, slow and full of the unspoken longing that had been brewing between them for months. Not wishing to overwhelm her, Patrick backed away first, leaning their foreheads together.

"Is this my "due course" response?" he teased, delighting in the blush that was quickly making it's way across her cheeks and down her throat.

Shelagh nodded before biting her bottom lip, trying to find the courage to speak. "Patrick?"

"Yes, Shelagh?"

She stared straight into his eyes, their faces inches apart. "Can I have a do-over?"

He smiled, laughing a little at the joy in her eyes as she teased him. "If you'd like a do-over..."

She wasted no time in leaning forward once again, following his lead.


End file.
